To be Strong
by Adishailan
Summary: "We need to be strong. No one will mess with us if we're strong. I'm sorry. I don't think there's any other way." As children, Sans and Papyrus made a silent promise to each other: to protect each other, to stop each other from getting hurt. Sometimes they kept it, sometimes not. At times, things seemed *almost* okay. Then you came along. (This is a SF sidefic to Almost Alone)
1. Chapter 1

**_Okay, several warnings for the chapter. First (and least seriously) MAJOR spoilers for 'There's a Hair in my Dirt!' the book that Sans is reading at the start. If you want an idea of how into it he gets, check out this dramatic reading below. (The actual book is hilarious, if dark, and I definitely recommend it as a novelty present to any friends and/or family with a slightly black sense of humour)_**

 ** _( www . you tube watch?v=1nWDEh1TyXA &feature= &t=14 )_**

 ** _In terms of more serious warnings though, this is a Fell universe so there is going to be some death and violence. I don't believe I'm extremely graphic in my descriptions but there is child endangerment and injury, murder and mentions of abuse._**

 ** _This is a side-fic to Almost Alone. The first two-three chapters can be read without reading that but after chapter 3 it will link into the other story much more._**

 ** _I hope you enjoy what I have written and if you have any requests for a chapter relating to this or 'Almost Alone', please let me know in the comments :)_**

* * *

"- Father worm stretched himself out across the table as close as he could get to his son's face. 'Which brings me back to that hair is your dirt, or should I say hair-iette!" Sans finished the book with a flourish, spindly hands waving in the air for dramatic effect.

Papyrus snorted quietly, eyes heavy, and murmured something indistinguishable into his cushion. Sans beamed down at his little bro as he snuffled softly and wormed his way deeper into his ratty covers.

Sans stood up, stretching out his bones, and went to put away Papyrus's favourite book: 'There's a hair in my dirt!' Sans had no idea why Papyrus found this story so amusing, what with the rather bleak outlook and horribly dark ending, but he appreciated how it seemed to put his brother's mind at ease enough for him to fall asleep. His brother hadn't been sleeping well the last few months or so. Sans wanted to put it down to growing pains but he didn't think that was it.

Papyrus did seem to be going through a strangely early growth spurt though. He was about the same height as Sans now. Sans didn't know whether to be happy at this or annoyed that his eight year old brother was the same height as him at fourteen.

Sans looked at the book on the shelf again and sighed. It was such an inappropriate book for his little brother but Dad had thrown away all the nicer ones a long time ago, after having a better look at them and saying they would give Papyrus dangerous thoughts. Sans had read them all and didn't see why stories about gallant heroes and fluffy bunnies could do anyone a lick of harm. They were educational even!

Sans shook his head and slipped out of his and Papyrus's bedroom to tiptoe downstairs.

"D- Dad?" He called, looking around very carefully as he edged down the stair case.

There was no answer and Sans smiled in relief, tiptoeing to the front door to open it and breathe in the cool, stale air there.

Sans loved his little brother to pieces and he... he loved his father too... but it didn't get half claustrophobic not being able to go out.

The trees stood still and dark before him, shrouded in shadow as they always were, still and unmoving and the perfect hiding place for someone who wanted to explore. Sans couldn't tear his large, glittering blue eye-lights away... perhaps- perhaps there would be something out there. Like in the trash-heaps Dad went to sometimes... perhaps there'd be some books, something nicer for Papyrus to read... or maybe something yummy to eat like those dried noodles Dad once gave them. Perhaps anything to eat.

Sans, feeling both nervous and excited, nodded to himself and stepped outside of the house.

* * *

It had been two hours. Two hours since Papyrus had fallen asleep, two hours before he woken up in an empty house and possibly two hours in which Sans had been missing.

Papyrus stood by a cracked window, his water-warped telescope pressed tightly to his eye-socket as he swept it over the snow and trees surrounding his home.

Many times in the past, Papyrus had thought their bedroom window pointless. Unless the point of windows was to stupidly let freezing cold air in, there was no reason for them. It didn't even let in enough light to be worth it, it never would, everything was dark in the underground. It always was and it always would be. Windows were completely pointless. At least, that's what Papyrus had believed until the moment when he woke up and realised Sans was no longer in the house. He had dashed to the glass pane, desperately searching for some small sign of movement. Papyrus turned his gaze from the trees, to the surrounding empty expanse of snow. He froze when he finally caught sight of a small set of footprints leading into the eastern woodland, and several larger groups of footprints following.

"Sans," he breathed, dropping the telescope with a crash of glass, shoving open the window and clambering out, uncaring of the distance to the icy ground as he fell, and of the grating, clicking sound his bones made when he landed. No, all he cared about was in the woods right now and he had to move.

Snow billowed up behind him as he ploughed through the trees, stumbling over roots and skidding on ancient, frozen puddles. He wouldn't fall. He kept on going. Branches whipped at his face and snagged at his oversized coat, grabbing at him and trying to slow him. He wouldn't slow. He kept on going. On and on he ran, until, quite suddenly, voices sounded out before him.

"-ow love levels! C'mon try and hit me! You couldn't even turn a moldsmal to dust, you piece of shit!"

Papyrus creeped closer, watching as his brother quivered between three semi-transparent slime monsters, one small eye-light twisting from one to another to another as he clamped a hand over his other eye.

Papyrus recognised these monsters. He had seen them out at the dump in waterfall many times before, sucking up whatever the could find into their gelatinous bodies and fighting anyone who even looked at them funny. He knew the leader was called Traka and had a ridiculously high LV. At least, that's what he overheard the other scavengers say. No one ever found out what their LVs were for sure though. Dust couldn't tell tales after all. There were always three of them and they would destroy anyone who got even remotely close. No one ever caught one by themselves to fight, even though many desperate monsters had tried.

Papyrus didn't know why they were in Snowdin and he didn't care. All he cared about was getting Sans away from them.

"I don't want to turn anyone to dust, f-friend. Let me go," Sans stuttered out, shuddering softly between the monsters as he tried to reason with them.

Papyrus winced. No. That's not the way to deal with these people. Dad had told them this, he had taught them this, you had to use violence and scare them away. No one respects kindness. Why was Sans even trying this? Why did Sans always act like this?! So kind, so nice?

Papyrus eyed up the cruel smiles curling at the monsters' puffed up lips as they looked at each other with dark amusement, sliding closer and closer to his brother. There was no other choice now. He took in a deep, stuttering breath, and walked out into the clearing.

"Brother, w-what did Dad say about playing with your food?" He tried to drawl, fighting down a wince at the way his voice hitched.

The slime gang paused, looking back at Papyrus with a flicker of surprise, which soon turned to amusement. Papyrus stood there, feet bare in the snow, oversized clothing hanging off his thin frame, trying to stand tall and sneer at them. Traka, the leader, started gurgling out a choked up laugh while the other two grinned fiercely. They moved to face the little skeleton properly and Papyrus got a clearer view of his horrified brother.

"Papyrus," Sans breathed, his one visible eye widening and face contorting into true terror. "What are you doing out here?! Go!"

"What, so you can get dust all over your clothes again? Nah bro, I'm fed up with cleaning that stuff off."

Sans stared, confused for a moment before finally catching on and forcing his quivering frame into a steady stance and his frown into a painfully false smirk. It was a little too late for that though.

The slime monsters snorted and threw their gelatinous heads back in raucous laughter at the children's' pitiful attempts at bravado, and that was when Papyrus struck.

Bones squelched up though ice and slime alike as Traka was speared multiple times in the space of two seconds. All of them looked to the leader, all frozen in place until the speared monster looked down at its body and... laughed.

"You gotta mean it, brat," he hissed through his chuckles, raising a bloated limb to bring up a ring of oozing projectiles out of thin air and aiming them at Papyrus. "Let me show you."

"WHO SAID THAT WAS MY BROTHER?!" Sans shouted, echoingly loud as he succeeded in diverting their attention from Papyrus. All the monsters turned to look at him, standing there with his little fists raised as if to strike them and hand no longer clamped over his eye.

Papyrus's eye-lights constricted into pinpricks as he took in the two, jagged cracks in his big brother's face.

Suddenly, the slime monster let loose a pained, strangled scream as the bones that were pinning it down blazed a bright orange. Its body started to convulse as it tried to move, as it tried to escape, but it was too late. It screamed once more, a howling, blubbering scream, and collapsed into a column of dust.

"Traka!" Shouted the remaining slime monsters, voices breaking in their pain, before rounding on a horrified looking Sans with murder in their eyes, globby bullets forming around them like a misshapen swarm of wasps.

Papyrus shook off the queasy shiver to his frame and focused on the monsters as they readied their projectiles. A barrier of white bones erupted from the ground around Sans. It only just withstood the attack. Before the two slime monsters could even think of launching another attack, a wave of bones flew at them. They moved quickly to avoid the orange magic, only for their HP to drop horribly low as the bones flashed blue at the last moment.

Sans tore his gaze away from Papyrus and shakily raised his hands, creating a blue bone wall around the monsters as they hissed out pained puffs of air between their blubbery lips.

"Y- you move, you're dust." He tried to snarl this but it was clear his heart wasn't in it, at least, it was clear to Papyrus who was watching his brother with painful intensity. Sans glanced round at Papyrus who quickly turned his face to the ground, where dust, slime and snow had melted into a grey, slushy mixture.

The only sound that could be heard in the clearing was the agonised wheezing breaths of the monsters and the soft, crunching tread of Sans making his way through the frozen snow towards Papyrus.

"...Let's go, little brother," Sans murmured, gently taking Papyrus's hand and leading him back through the snow.

"W- we'll get you for this you fucker! You and your brother! We'll kill him! See- **see how you fucking feel**!"

Sans stopped walking, his hand clamped painfully tightly over Papyrus's fingers. Papyrus didn't complain, he just stared at the medley of expressions whirling across Sans's face and at the soft tinge of red outlining his eye lights, with a peculiar sense of apprehension.

"Like **I** care about this fool!" Sans snapped, dropping Papyrus's hand and whirling around. A large series of bones formed in his hands, fusing under his touch and growing larger and larger and larger, into a pointed, jagged spinal column. The monstrous weapon continued to grow until it towered over the treetops, looming over them with shadowed edges and glistening bone. Slowly, Sans tilted the the colossal length towards the petrified monsters, his frail arms shaking with the strain of keeping it steady. "He's- he's only family but, unluckily for you, that means he's marginally more important than you."

And with that, he raised his weapon as high as he could and slammed down the huge spinal whip, the pointed edge of it arching forward to slice through one of the slime monster's body, turning it to ash instantly. Sans's body was shaking now and he looked like he was about to throw up but he still turned to the other monster and raised his arms up again.

"No, no, bro, that's enough," Papyrus murmured, raising his hands to still his brother's movement. Sans looked at him with an expression of such self-loathing and pained relief that in that moment Papyrus made a promise to himself to never let his brother kill another monster in his life.

"You go on home, I'll take out the trash," Papyrus urged him. Sans stared at him for a few moments, eye-lights flickering, then shook his head.

"... That's not n-necessarily. I am sure this monster has learned their lesson. Am I right?"

The remaining monster shivered and nodded desperately and Sans forced a toothy smile onto his face. "Don't cross **me** again you- you p-piece of shit."

And they left. Water was running down from Sans's eyes but, as no one but Papyrus could see him, it didn't matter. As soon as they were out of sight, Papyrus practically fell to his knees before his brother, burying his face in his thin chest.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I d-didn't realise I'd kill that monster. I j-j-just wanted to scare them but I saw your face and what they did and I- I- I'm sorry you had to- had to-" Papyrus cut himself off, unable to say exactly what they had done, unable to get it past the heavy weight growing in his chest.

Sans didn't move for a few moments, nor did he make a single sound but, eventually, his arms came up around Papyrus to hug him tightly into his fragile frame.

"It's okay Papyrus, Dad always says I need to toughen up. I suppose this is just the way I have to do it."

"No, I don't want-"

"It doesn't matter what you want, brother," Sans interrupted him, voice less soft now. "This is how it is."

And with that, Sans pulled himself from Papyrus's desperate hug, grabbed his brother's shoulders and pulled him up. Papyrus blinked across at him.

"We need to be strong. No one will mess with us if we're strong. I'm sorry but... I don't think there's any other way."

Papyrus deflated, eyes puffy and his wonky, battered teeth pulled tight into a fake smile. "You know best big bro."

"Of course I do. I **am** the best," Sans laughed, running his blue handkerchief across his eyes and wincing at the white liquid that stained it.

"Let's get you home and fix you up," Papyrus smiled, almost sincerely this time, silently making a promise to himself to never let Sans get hurt like that again.

It was a promise he wouldn't be able to keep.


	2. Chapter 2

**It was just him and Sans. No one else. Never trust anyone else.**

 **Warnings: Swearing, death, spoilers for genocide route, Chara (and Frisk), some graphic desciptions of gore**

* * *

Fifteen years had passed since Papyrus had brought Sans home that night, since their _Father_ had raised his fist against Sans and shattered both bone and promise, leaving the brothers with a reminder that refused to fade away with all the other memories of the monster. It was a reminder every time Papyrus looked at Sans: don't let anyone get too near to him, don't trust anyone. It was a reminder to Sans every time he saw his reflection in a mirror or the cracks sting in the cold: be strong, don't be weak, lie, don't let people know, don't become like _him_.

They had both had many refreshers of these lessons over the years, some through scars, some through memory, but to Papyrus those three cracks on Sans's face were the worst. They plagued both his dreams and his waking thoughts.

Papyrus sat in his damp, slush-covered sentry box, hood pulled up tight over his head as he mused on dark thoughts once again. There was a soft crunching tread of steps in the snow to his right. He didn't bother to raise his head. It had been years since someone had dared try to get the jump on ' _The Terrifying Sans's Guard Dog_ '. Papyrus mentally snorted at this title. Some guard dog he was.

The footsteps stopped, a final, quiet crunch sounding just in front of Papyrus. Slowly, he raised his head and peered through the fluff of his hood at the unexpected visitor.

 _Oh. It's just that kid again,_ he thought, staring blankly at the smiling human.

"What you up to?" Asked the human.

Papyrus just stared at them, not saying a word. The kid tried again:

"Aren't you supposed to be on guard? I heard the other monsters talking bout you."

Papyrus continued to not say anything. Perhaps if he was very very still, this weirdo would think he'd fallen asleep with his eyes wide open and leave. Stranger things had happened.

"I don't think your doing a good job of it, guarding and all that."

 _No such luck_ , Papyrus mentally sighed. Why did this human want to talk to him anyway? If they heard the others talking, the kid must have heard all the other stuff they say about him and his big brother. A huff of irritation escaped his teeth as his mind wondered onto that topic, onto all those who muttered dark words about Sans behind his back and cowered and fawned to his face, who gave Papyrus gloating, sympathetic looks while spreading stupid rumours about him. They might have it bad but at least they weren't 'Sans's mutt'.

Papyrus **hated** them. It was because of monsters like them that Sans had to be the way he is. His brother only had one friend in his life outside of Papyrus and that idiotic lizard had only made the whole situation worse. The Monsters were all terrified of Alphys and now they wouldn't go near Sans if you paid them. Papyrus knew this was good on some level but still... it wasn't what he wanted.

"Knock knock!" Called the human again, rapping on the soggy cardboard front of the sentry house and bringing Papyrus back to the present.

"Who's there?" He asked on reflex.

"Boo."

Papyrus sighed, knowing where this was going. He'd listened to Sans's whispered jokes enough times to be utterly bored of the whole thing. He felt in an okay mood that morning though, better than usual at least, and decided to humour them.

"Boo who?"

"Stop crying you fucking pussy, it's not the end of the world."

There was a long pause then Papyrus sat up and made a sound that was like a cross between a snort and a hacking cough.

 _Eh, this kid is alright._

Papyrus repressed a smile at the gloating look of achievement on the kids face as they rolled onto another joke, this time about poo, much to Papyrus's bemused amusement.

Humans were definitely different to what he had imagined, much more entertaining and much less... what's the word? Vapid? Cruel? Well, whatever it was, Papyrus was finding that he somewhat, vaguely, liked this kid. If his first meeting with the human, back when the child had deadpanned about him being as scary as a neon puppy, hadn't proven this, their meeting with Sans had definitely cemented this tenuous feeling.

Papyrus almost smiled at the memory of Sans's nonplussed expression when the human had told him, upfront no less, that they liked his one said that to Sans. Most monsters didn't even dare talk to him, Papyrus wouldn't usually talk fashion or just say his brother looked good in anything and Alphys ribbed him no matter what he wore. Sans had stood there for several moments with a blank look on his face, clearly unsure of how to react to the kid's compliment, before defaulting back to his usual gruff face and harsh words.

Papyrus knew that Sans was slowly growing a soft spot for the human though. He hadn't threatened them with dismemberment in days. Papyrus smiled at the kid and leaned over the sagging counter to ruffle their puffy hair.

He wondered if other humans were as nice as Chara.

* * *

He wondered if other humans were as terrifying as Chara.

The smile was gone, their rosy cheeks drained and pallid, and their eyes emotionless and hollow as they faced him with a dirty knife clamped between two steady hands. Dust stained their trainers. Patches of it clung to their ratty hair and bare arms, making it look like they had rolled through the stuff.

Papyrus thought of many things as he stood there before the human. _He thought of Asgore; his whispered nonsensical tips on brewing tea through a cold stone door and the silence that filled his home after the human stumbled out of it like a broken marionette doll._

His attacks flared orange, surrounding the human on all sides and forcing them to back away.

 _He thought of Undyne, her fevered words about bizarre TV shows and downcast eyes that spoke of Alphys's death._

The human leapt forwards, only to duck back as a series of bone shaped spears were flung at them.

 _He thought of Alphys, of how much she irritated him and how much Sans lik_ - **he thought of Sans.**

Papyrus didn't say anything, he never did. He didn't even move. He just tilted his head ever so slightly to the right and a mass of bones shot up through the air, flashing orange and blue like the stuttering flare of a dying star.

Slowly, he looked up, staring with empty eye-sockets as the human gargled and twitched in the mangled mess of blood, bone and gristle, high above him.

"Sixty-three: nil," Papyrus murmured and the world reset.

* * *

Papyrus yanked his hand back from the human's head as if he had been stung.

Chara looked up at him, confused.

"...Off you go, kid," he finally muttered, drawing his hood further over his head and casting his face in shadows.

He had learned his lesson a long time ago. It was just him and Sans. No one else. _**Never** _trust anyone else.


	3. Chapter 3

_**After who knows how many resets, Papyrus finally found himself out in the surface world. At first it was nothing like he expected, at first it was amazing and brilliant and everything he could ever have wanted... Then he got tired.**_

* * *

Years passed, six years to be precise. Six years out of the hell hole known as the Underground. It was great and it was dull. It was freedom and success and everything monster kind had hoped for, and it was empty. There was no more fighting, no more dust, no more _blood._

Papyrus hadn't known what to do with himself. So he worked. As Sans said, he worked himself to the bone. He got as many jobs as he could get his hands on, which really wasn't many. He supported Sans through his degrees to become a lawyer, almost cried as the skeleton excitedly shook hands with his fellow graduates and collected his diploma, and smiled happily as Sans encountered humans on a day to day basis, even becoming something akin to friends with some of them.

Papyrus continued to keep himself busy; he went to work, he traveled on trundling busses, staring intently out of the windows, and went on long walks in new places. He tried out strange, unfamiliar foods and watched a ton of new films. He took classes in anything he could get from guitars and Spanish to book binding and painting. He did everything he could to not be still, to not have to think. For a while, he could almost convince himself that it was fun, and that he was okay.

Then he got tired.

The hobbies were the first to go. What was the point in them? Yeah, they had been interesting but for some reason they just _weren't_ any more. He slipped into slang in Spanish and drawled out short, unaccented answers. Painting went from jazzy and realistic to vaguely abstract to splatters of random paint with bullshit explanations behind them. It really didn't help that the humans in all those classes didn't want him there either. In the end, after hearing one too many _interesting_ conversations about him, he just stopped going.

After that, it was the walks and the bus journeys that went. He would lie in bed for hours on end until the last possible moment then flash over into his work place in an instant. That is, until he stopped being able to even do _that_. He just felt too tired. He started riding the bus again, this time simply sitting there and staring blindly into space, wearing clothes he hadn't changed in days. Hey, he's a skeleton, he figured humans couldn't tell the difference anyway. Sans could though. Sans was worried about him and that was something that Papyrus couldn't have. So Papyrus carried on working, even if it made his brain numb and his body tired, he had to do something other than lie in bed all day so Sans didn't get upset. It didn't really work. Sans suddenly seemed painfully aware of _everything_. He would berate him, ply him with endless plates of food that Papyrus tried his best to eat at first before even giving up on that and just vanishing it into the void as best he could, and he would constantly badger Papyrus to go see all their old friends.

That was the one thing Papyrus put his foot down over. He didn't want to see any of them again, baring perhaps Undyne or Asgore. But Undyne often came with Alphys in tow and Asgore always came with... _them_.

Nah, he didn't want to see any monsters anyway. After spending so long in their company, being amongst humans was... a slight improvement.

Papyrus jolted from his musings about the surface world, looking up as his bus jolted to a stop before him. The bus driver (ah, the bigoted one, _great_ ) was shouting something at the people behind him and sneering like Sans had when he tried McDonalds for the first (and only) time, except with an extra dollop of racism on top.

He listened with half a non-existent ear as the man started to spit out some stale shit about jobs and going to hell.

 _Been there, done that_ , Papyrus thought, putting away his oyster card and taking a seat.

Instantly he could feel eyes on the back of his head. If he had the energy he would have grumbled to himself, but he didn't, so he just ignored the human as usual. You would eventually get tired of staring at him he was sure.

 _Nothing to see here._ He would have snorted at that thought but he didn't really feel up to it.

Ah well.

* * *

Time passed as it does, sluggishly and uncaringly slow. Papyrus continued to work, to try to convince his brother he was fine, to just get every day over and done with so he could wake up in the next to do i n.

 _Tired. So tired._

He could barely raise his head, but his body was shaking like mad, trying to counteract the damp, chill clinging to his bones. His teeth burned with the heat of his breath, rain water dripping and steaming faintly off his false teeth. Out of the corner of his eye he could see someone moving along the bus to sit closer to him, staring at him. It was that weird human with the weird teeth.

 _Piss off_ , he thought at his stupid stalker, before his eyes clamped shut and his thoughts devolved into focusing on his breathing once more, into fighting to keep himself from falling off the chair as the bus rolled to a stop.

Then came the thought, that same old, familiar thought that he had heard so many times before and ignored and fought against and defied... only this time it was louder. Only this time he listened to it.

 _What's the point?_

He fell...

... and someone picked him up.

"-up- ick- ight..."

Arms encircled him, pulling him up off the ground, reminding him of a whisper of a memory.

" _ **This is how it is."**_

 _ **"We need to be tough."**_

 _ **"Together."**_

He needed to- for Sans- he needed to be stronger than this- _for_ _Sans_ , for-

Papyrus's eyes drifted open, looking at nothing, taking in the strange distorted form standing next to him and ignoring it.

It'll just restart anyway. Who cares about whether he just sleeps here forever?

 _Sans will.._. for a bit, before he's distracted by his job and his new friends again. Who's going to care? No one is even going to look twi-

"Look please. Don't hang up on me. I have someone with me who looks really sick and I need to to know what to do to help him. What does it matter if he's human or not?... _Please_..."

Papyrus gazed quietly at what he now vaguely recognised to be _that human._ The one who stared at him a lot. _You_. He watched as you listened to a distant voice on the other end of that phone clamped to your ear... then a strange look overcame your face, washed out skin crinkling and mismatched teeth showing.

 _It's an ugly smile_ , Papyrus mused through the tired fog of his mind, but it was hard to look away from it, that is until a wave of exhaustion crashed down over him, carrying him away into weird, soft dreams of hands stroking at his brow, the taste of salt in his mouth and a hushed, scratchy voice making impossible promises.


	4. Chapter 4

**_So this side-fic is finally starting to align with Almost Alone. This is quite a small piece of writing but it goes with the first chapter, showing Papyrus's POV a bit._** ** _I won't do other perspective chapters on the whole story as I feel it would get a bit repetitive so the next chapter will skip forward a bit, but, as usual, I'm open to any suggestions about something you want to see in this series. Just let me know in the comments :)_**  
 ** _Hope you enjoy this xxx_**

 ** _p.s. I got a new beta reader called FoxietheMagicianFox who has been working with me at lightning speed, hence my upped updating schedule for this :D_**

* * *

Morning came as mornings always do and Papyrus stared blankly up at the ceiling of his room, trying to mentally bully himself into getting- wait. _This was not his ceiling._

He sat up, staring at the smooth, damp plaster, then down and around himself. He was sat in a single bed with a lumpy mattress and a warm, woolen throw. _This was not his bed._

His gaze flickered onto the neat surroundings, the paint splattered easel, the collection of bright, half-finished paintings of fruit and animals and the dusty photos of smiling humans. _This was not his room. **Where was he?**_

He pushed himself off the bed, staggering slightly as a wave of dizziness hit him and threatened to push him back down into the mattress. But no, he didn't let himself fall. He held himself still and steady, he was going to find out where he was and what was going on. He stepped over a stray towel, and made his way out of the room into what, at first glance, seemed to be a small, abandoned apartment. Before him, all to be seen was a broken, battered sofa, a generic and sun-bleached print on an off-white wall, a scuffed and stained coffee table and a bulky plastic block which somewhat resembled a laptop. That was it. There was nothing else. The room he had just come from seemed positively homely in comparison.

A clatter of pans came from the right, stirring Papyrus from his confused musings as he turned to catch sight of someone in a kitchen, through a half open door.

Papyrus blinked, lightly stepping closer to get a better look. You seemed to have a good awareness of your surroundings though as you quickly turned and jolted in surprise upon seeing him enter the kitchen. Blurred and hazy images of the night before stirred in Papyrus's memory as he looked you in the eye. It was that weird human who always watched him on the bus. They had taken him here when he fell. Why? What did they want?

Then you started to speak, asking if he was alright and offering food, and Papyrus didn't want to be there any more. He didn't listen to this insincere bullshit spewing from your mouth. Whatever the hell you wanted, he didn't want part of it.

Papyrus walked away.

* * *

It was strange. Papyrus felt better. He didn't feel like sleeping away the day, nor staring up at his ceiling for hours. He stood at the bus shelter, cigarette clamped between his teeth, smoke curling up and around him, embracing him with its tarry stench. Sans probably wouldn't be happy when he came back smelling like this but, to be honest, Sans hasn't been happy with him for a long time. Papyrus didn't think the smell of smoke would be much on top of everything else that was going on...

But, today, when Papyrus came back for a bit, Sans didn't seem as upset as he thought he would be. Well, no, that's a lie. Sans was upset but, oddly, after a few minutes of just glaring at him, he seemed to just let it go. Strange and odd seemed to be Papyrus's go-to words today. He used them again as the bus drew to a stop before him and he saw that human through the window.

You seemed to be in a daze, or asleep with your eyes open, it was hard to tell, but, as soon as Papyrus stepped on the bus, you were alert and focused and staring at anything but him. Papyrus didn't know exactly why, but that irritated him. It irritated him a lot. And in that moment, all he wanted to do was to return that feeling tenfold.

He slumped down into the seat next to you, hiding a smirk as your shoulders tensed and sweat beaded at your brow. He waited for your inevitable breaking point; for when you would finally ask him for whatever mundane thing you wanted from him, or at least tell him to bugger off. It didn't come. Instead you just sat there for little less than an hour, not even looking at him once, and only speaking when you wanted to get off.

Papyrus felt his brow crinkle faintly as the bus drove off again.

That was not what he expected.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Uuuughhh... half term is ending soon. That means I have to go back to wooooooork :( Drat!**_  
 _ **At least I got a bit of writing done this week :)**_

 _ **This chapter goes with Chapter 3 of Almost Alone and shows what Papyrus got up to during the week he went AWOL and also a bit of insight into what the hell was going on in his head during the mall meeting.**_

 _ **I hope you enjoy :) xxx**_

* * *

Sometimes Papyrus didn't quite know what to make of you... actually, a lot of the time, Papyrus didn't know what to make of you.

He was staring at you. His muted, grey eye-lights were intent on your form as you queued up for your greasy fast-food. You weren't even doing anything interesting, you were just staring into space, fiddling with your wallet and occasionally shuffling forward. Papyrus continued to watch you, mulling you over in his mind.

 _It's probably just because he's human_ , he told himself again. Humans don't generally kill for exp. They don't need to.

They still killed for other reasons though. Several monsters had learned this the hard way after coming to the surface. Humans were marginally nicer than monsters but, then again, so were cockroaches. Yes, humans had attacked monsters multiple times after the barrier broke, but it wasn't anything new. Monsters just continued to keep their guard up. But you, you had seen him without a guard, without anything, defenceless and weak. You had the opportunity to do real harm and you **hadn't**. You said you had just wanted to help... and that you would do it again. That you would continue to help _him_ if he needed it.

It was weird. Humans were weird and you were straight up the weirdest, which made you kind of interesting. That was why Papyrus kept on staring at you; why he kept choosing the bus seats next to you and why he kept talking to you. You were fascinating to him.

Take the art for example. He hadn't known you did that. He remembered seeing paintings in your room but it hadn't clicked that you made them. To be fair, he had been a bit distracted at the time. But, for some reason, your hobby really surprised him. You took interest in things he hadn't known about. He almost smiled at thought of you sitting in front of your canvas, looking deadly serious as you recreated the world in your image. He wondered for a moment what your world would look like and almost smiled. He shook his head softly and tried to divert his thoughts.

You made money out of art, something Papyrus hadn't even thought of trying to do. Hell, he'd spent money to do it, to sit in a cramped room with a load of snobby humans and paint a bowl of fruit. And he'd enjoyed it? How? He didn't get it... but he was starting to think of maybe trying again. By himself this time... or maybe with yo-? Wait, no, that would be weird. He wasn't doing that.

He shook himself of that thought and brought himself back to the real world, focusing on watching you again. You had turned and looked his way for a moment before facing back to the cashier again, asking for something. Your head was tilted to the side, your hair shining slightly in the artificial glow of the mall lights.

 _Weird._

Papyrus looked away as you turned around and approached his table, focusing on the beat up can of meat mush he had been debating eating. It has been easy to grab and easy to carry to work. Sans hadn't seemed happy about him eating more human crap but at least Papyrus had taken something. Truthfully, he hadn't really been planning on eating it. But, now that he was out with a human for lunch (and wasn't that a strange concept to get his head around) he couldn't just sit there and stare while you ate. It would be weird, and not the good sort of weird.

He sighed and resigned himself to eating some of the canned... tripe, was it? The label had worn away so long ago that he could barely remember.

Canned goods were like gold dust in the underground, or they would be if monsters had much interest in gold. The stuff was ranked just above alcohol and just below easy exp. Human food needed a bit of a magical boost to be edible for most monsters, but not much. This and the fact that the canned food didn't expire like other human food made them a huge commodity. Lives were lost on a regular basis over food and scavenger rights. Only the most affluent and powerful could afford to actually eat the damn things. Papyrus and Sans had over thirty cans of the stuff by the end of their time down there. But, when they all got up to the surface, the cans immediately lost whatever value they held. Humans seemed to stock the things by the thousands.

Papyrus hadn't been that bothered at the time, distracted by the sensation of sunlight and fresh air and **everything**. But now, as he considered the can in his hands, he found he couldn't think of anything else. His thoughts spiralled into memories of scavenger hunts gone wrong, of the desperate, scrabbling tug-of-war matches with the other monsters to get a hold of the food and rush back home before Sans woke up or Dad realised he was missing. He remembered getting covered in dust, almost choking on the stuff, when one monster followed him back home and made to attack them in the night. He could still see Sans's look of panic as he discovered his little brother coated in dust, like the image had been ingrained into his sockets. It was early days that, Sans had still been so new to the whole thing, of acting tough and fighting back. After that night, Sans had declared he would be accompanying Papyrus to find food from then on. Breathing in dust soon became much more common after that. Papyrus hated breaking promises to himself.

There was a click of plastic cutlery, snapping Papyrus out of his daze. You were sat opposite him with your food, eyebrows raised and eyes going down to the table and up again, saying something without speaking a word.

Papyrus followed your gaze and froze as he saw the carton of sea tea and ciniebun in front of him.

He stared at them, almost unseeingly, taking a long time to process that they were in front of him for a reason.

You gave him food. Unbidden and unprompted, you had spent money and just given him something that Monsters used to kill each other for. He looked up at you. There was no look of pity or self-satisfaction. You gave a small, awkward smile and watched him expectantly, waiting for him to eat.

Hesitantly, Papyrus took a sip of the drink and started to pull the food apart, hardly tasting it as his mind whirled. His gaze flickered back up to you as you started to eat. He stared as you took several large bites, your cheeks bulging slightly as you all but inhaled your food. It should have been disgusting, but it wasn't.

Papyrus frowned, glowering at nothing as he thought about this. The frown grew deeper and heavier as a faint suspicion grew in his mind. He found you interesting, he couldn't stop looking at you and he wasn't disgusted by you when by rights he should be... He looked back at you again. You caught his gaze for a moment and smiled.

 **Oh**.

* * *

He liked you. He liked you a lot. And wasn't that **terrifying.**

He lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and ignoring the passing of time. It would soon be time to go to work, which meant coming back from work, which meant seeing you again.

He heaved a heavy breath and finally looked to his right, at the water-warped clock stapled to the wall. If he left now, he could make it.

He didn't move.

Papyrus watched as the seconds passed with heavy, thunking ticks. He watched until it was too late then turned his head back up to the ceiling, staring at nothing.

He liked you and that was terrifying. The last human Papyrus somewhat liked ended up emptying the underground and killing his brother and he couldn't even act angry about it because, technically, it never happened. And before he knew it, he was thinking about Chara again.

That never ended well.

* * *

"My _useless_ brother is still feeling ill... He cannot even get out of bed," Sans all but shouted into the phone as he stormed up and down the corridor leading to his and Papyrus's rooms.

Papyrus listened from the other side of the door, staring up at the ceiling like he had been doing for... how long was it now? It had definitely been more than a day.

He turned his head, making the pillow beneath his skull crackle, and looked at the series of cold dinners that had piled up on all the surfaces surrounding around him. He did a quick mental tally. There was about a months worth of food around him, so it must have been a week this time.

He should really get up and let Sans know he's okay.

 _Yeah..._

Papyrus stared up at the ceiling.

Time passed...

...Then:

"I'VE **FUCKING** HAD IT!"

Papyrus jumped and shot up, spilling plates of old food over him as he jolted against one of the bedside tables. The door to his room slammed open and Sans stormed in with a bucket of water.

"Uh, bro?"

"GET THE BLOODY BUGGERING _**FUCK** _OUT OF THIS ROOM!" Screamed Sans, stomping up to Papyrus with the bucket.

Papyrus, having been in a static daze for about a week, was hardly a match for Sans's exuberant rage and was promptly drenched.

"Get out of this flat, go the FUCK to work and deal with your shit! I am fed up with it stinking up the flat."

Water dripped down from Papyrus's chin and the fur from his hood was plastered to his skull but he hardly noticed. Sans looked livid. He must have been really bad this time.

"...Sorry, bro."

Sans still looked angry but he seemed to deflate slightly at the low tone of Papyrus's voice.

"...Just go deal with whatever your problem is. Don't come back until you sort it out," and with that Sans turned and stalked back to his room.

* * *

Papyrus went to deal with his problem. He went back to work, only to find he no longer had a job. Apparently the nightclub hadn't been given any notice of him being off ill, despite Sans having definitely rung them. This, on top of his recent lackluster performance and a few incidents with his less-than-kind colleagues, made it a very easy decision for his boss to axe him.

The door quietly clicked shut behind him and Papyrus sighed, looking up at the slither of sky able to be glimpsed at in the alleyway. It was red and dusty, clouds curled and contorted like smoke under a hard wind. For a long time, Papyrus just stared up, waiting and watching as the red faded to a dull pink, then to a bruised purple and finally to inky darkness.

He then straightened up, turned around and left the alleyway, making his way to the bus stop, shoving his hands in his pockets in a bid to stop them shaking due to the cold. There were several buses before the one he wanted to take, he watched as they sped past him, wind whipping at his damp, musty smelling hood.

Time seemed to slow in the hours he stood there, there were no changing skies to distract him from his thoughts. Papyrus tried anyway.

He'd have to get another job. But the fact that he was just fired would not look good on his references. Perhaps he could try monster employment with Muffet or someone. It would mean better pay and no one being angry that he was a monster... but it also meant seeing all those murderous pieces of slime he'd sworn never to go near again.

Surely the humans had some other jobs going. If he could just get the interview, he'd be in with a chance. Maybe something in drink making? It was a shame he lost this job, he was okay at mixing alcohol and most of the patrons seemed to drunkenly find it amusing that a skeleton made their drinks... Most of them.

All thoughts on unruly customers and racist co-workers were blown away though at the sight of the bus approaching. It was the right one this time. Papyrus almost missed flagging it down, so distracted by the lump forming in his throat and the sense of apprehension coursing through his soul, but he managed to raise his hand just in time.

The bus skidded to a halt and Papyrus got on. He started to think about how it wasn't one of the racist ones driving this time, only for his thoughts to be cut short yet again by looking back and seeing you. You had been staring out of the window but seemed to feel his gaze and turned to look his way. You didn't smile, there were no rosy cheeks or false grins, instead you looked relieved and endearingly awkward.

He liked you. He really liked you... and that was okay. It was different from how he had liked Chara. He had just thought they were a nice kid and liked listening to their silly comments and crude jokes. At one time, he had even thought them a friend... With you it was very different. He wanted to spend time with you, to look at your face, to just keep on looking and to never look away. It felt good to see you, relieving almost. Like all those bad thoughts were being washed away just by being close to you. He wanted more of this. He wanted more than just an hour of your company.

He **wanted** somethingand this was such an unfamiliar feeling that he didn't even think of restraining himself when he sat next to you and asked that question:

"That 'sea tea or sea tea pancake' offer still standing?"

He liked you. He liked you a lot. _And wasn't that **amazing**._


	6. Chapter 6

_**So I've written quite a few of these chapters now. It's a bit out of sync with the main fic though which annoys me. Perhaps I should upload a few of the unbetaed chapters a bit quicker to try to catch up. I haven't quite made my mind up yet.**_  
 _ **Either way, I hope you enjoy the next few chapter** **s that come out.**_

 _ **This chapter goes with Chapter 4 of Almost Alone**_

* * *

Papyrus woke up in your room again. This time he knew where he was and what had happened to lead him there. He stared up at the ceiling and smiled at the pattern of cracks and faint patch of damp. It was different to his room. Everything was different with you. He had eaten a full meal, he had watched television and he had slept. He had slept **well**. That was the strangest thing of all.

He sat up off your lumpy but weirdly comfortable bed, and looked around, scanning the walls for a clock to see how long he slept for, but finding none. Instead, what he found were the paintings. He had seen them before, that first time he woke up in this room, but he hadn't looked at them like he was now.

If he was being honest with himself, he wouldn't have said he was a fan. It wasn't bad exactly and you certainly had your own style, but it wasn't what he usually liked in art. The paint was spread thin with the canvas showing in places, the colours were dark, rich and very similar to each other and with very little contrast, and he couldn't quite tell what they were all supposed to be of.

But Papyrus _wasn't_ being honest with himself, and he told himself that they were actually very good and that he liked them.

 _He's an amazing artist_ , he forced himself to think, turning to look through another pile of artwork. These were obviously the commissions you talked about. Picture perfect images of pets, cartoonish drawings of fur covered humans and what appeared to be straight up porn seemed to make up the bulk of it. Papyrus nonchalantly flicked through some of the latter and allowed himself to not think too much of your art this time. It was pretty obvious you felt uncomfortable with some of these if the rushed sketchy nature was anything to go by. He didn't judge you for the work though. Humans think up the weirdest things and it wasn't your fault that your commissioners were into this sort of stuff. You were just trying to get by with what skills you had. Papyrus could respect that. He had worked all sorts of hours in all sorts of jobs to earn enough for Sans to go to University. From sign flipper and telemarketer to dustbin man and foam suit mascot, Papyrus had done it all. He was very glad to be shot of those particular jobs now, except for the sign flipper perhaps, that had been an easy one. He'd even got a few trick throws under his belt from that one. He would soon need to look for a new job to replace the bar one though. There were still debts from Sans's course left to pay and Sans wasn't getting enough cases yet to pay it all off. He didn't really want to think about that now though. He still had his security guard job and that paid okay. He'd look for something new when back home later... Papyrus sighed, he really _should_ get home. Sans was probably worrying about him.

He put the artwork down in what was probably the right order, and left your bedroom, ready to call for you and let you know he was heading off- only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of you curled up on the sofa. Your hair was ruffled, sticking out at odd angles. One of your arms was hanging off the edge, rough fingers softly curling into your palm, and the other was curved around your head, obscuring half of your face.

Papyrus stared, the clock in the kitchen ticked, the neighbours clattered around in their apartment and the soft sounds of your breathing filled the room.

 _...Right_.

There was no way Papyrus was going to wake you up. There was also no way he was going to just leave without saying anything, not again. But he also wasn't going to just stand there like a freak and watch you sleep. _N_ - _no_. Papyrus _wasn't_ going to do that.

He forced himself to turn around and make his way away from you, only to find himself in the kitchen. He didn't quite realise he was in there for a good few minutes, as he was rather lost in his own thoughts, but, when he did, he found a smile curling on his jaw. He looked around curiously. It was rare that he got to go into kitchens, let alone cook. He enjoyed it but Sans had banned him from cooking a long time ago.

... Well, what better way of saying 'thank you' than a home cooked breakfast?

* * *

You didn't like his cooking. That was fine, that was everyone's reaction. You ate it all anyway. _That_ was new. That was _different_. And your face when you swallowed all of it in one go! Those bulging cheeks and that bit of egg stuck to your chin. It was priceless! Papyrus was still chuckling to himself about that weeks later.

You were great. You were funny and smart and just so _different_. Papyrus couldn't get enough of it all. So he kept on visiting, he would catch the bus to town like usual so Sans wouldn't suspect he lost another job and would wait until late to go back with you, back to your place.

He didn't stay the night again, too worried about worrying Sans. His brother had been quite upset when he didn't come home that first night, giving him a vicious kick on the knee when Papyrus finally got back. But Sans had been looking happier lately, _after_ that mess was all straightened out. He seemed to be a little bit suspicious about why Papyrus didn't come back until much later now but, ultimately, he didn't seem to care enough to interrogate his brother... yet.

Papyrus, oblivious to the true extent of his brother's suspicions and worries, was visiting you almost every night now. He'd recently managed to get a part time job at a run-down cafe with the help of a peculiarly friendly old lady who worked as the manager there. This ate up the afternoons quite nicely, after which he would just walk around and wait a few hours until the right bus came and he would go to your place, content to simply spend time around you.

You were shy at times and not much of a conversationalist which made it hard for Papyrus as he wasn't one either, but he hardly noticed. He thought you were much better at talking than him, even if your little smatterings of chatter just devolved into small talk and work stories. He had the hardest time thinking of things to say most of the time, which was okay as you seemed happy to sit in silence with him too.

Papyrus thought he might have liked those silent moments the most. You would be on your sofa, sketching an outline for a new project, or you would be doing chores, waving him off every time he offered to help. He would just sit and watch you while you did these things, struggling to keep a gentle smile off his face.

You were so kind. You were nothing like those monsters he'd grown up amongst. You actually cared about others and understood him.

You were so brilliant. Your knowledge of maths questions from University Challenge was really impressive and your skills in art were nothing to scoff at.

You were so well put together. Your words clear and well thought out. You were strong, not pulling apart from the seams like him.

You were amazing to look at. Your expressions often muted but sometimes so lively. How could he ever have found your grin wonky? How could he ever have thought you ugly?

There was no question about it: you were so different from him. So perfect. _You were absolutely perfect for him._

* * *

Sans eventually figured out that Papyrus wasn't staying out late to work. Papyrus had been expecting that; his brother was smart after all. He'd also been expecting him to get angry that Papyrus hadn't told him all about it, which Sans was, especially about Papyrus falling unconscious which he was furious about for quite some time. What Papyrus didn't expect though was Sans's reaction to hearing all about you.

"He doesn't sound real."

Papyrus blinked, "... I'm not making him up," he protested, brow furrowing.

Sans let out a loud, gusty sigh and sat next to his brother on the sofa, ignoring the baleful look he was getting.

"I'm _not_ saying that. It's just... people aren't perfect. They're _people_." Sans paused, as if not entirely sure how to continue. "You're too nice sometimes, brother. Humans will take advantage of that. How do you know him helping you wasn't just part of a plan or for some ulterior motive?"

Papyrus sighed softly, of course Sans wouldn't get it. He's never even met y-

"I want to meet them. I want to see this human friend of yours."

* * *

To say Papyrus felt nervous was putting it mildly. He was full blown panicking in his head. What if Sans didn't like you? What if he tried to scare you away? What if you thought it was weird to meet him so soon and flat out refused? What if you rejected Papyrus?

But you didn't reject him. You agreed and shrugged off his worries about the meeting being the bad kind of weird. You chatted to him as usual and made plans and Papyrus felt full of hope.

Of course it will go well. You're _you_. You who accepted _him_ of all people. You who helps out strangers and gives food freely and who is just perfect. Sans would love you and you would love Sans.

He ignored Sans's continued concerns and theories about your background. When Sans met you, his opinion would change. He was sure Sans would love you once he got to know you.

He ignored your prying comments and worried looks. You were just nervous, you would love Sans once you met him. Sans was just like him, they both looked worse than they were. You wouldn't be fooled by his tough guy act. You'd see Sans for who he was just like you saw Papyrus.

It didn't even cross his mind that you wouldn't get on with Sans. He didn't think that you would be scared. _**He never thought for a second that you would do what you did.**_

The door slammed shut behind him as he leaned against the wood and stared into space. You- you-

"Papyrus..." Sans whispered, Papyrus didn't even hear him.

He shook his head. You thought Sans abused him?! What the hell?! You were just like everyone else!

"... _Brother_."

All those monsters who spread those messed up lies, who never saw the truth because they never looked, _you were just the same as them_. Saying that _you_ would help _him_? How had he let himself get fooled like this? Sans had been right. You weren't perfect. Why had he thought you were perfect when you were so far from it?

"I'm sorry, Papyrus, _please_."

Papyrus didn't even register Sans talking to him. No. _No more_. He wouldn't be fooled again. It was just him and Sans. No one else. Never trust anyone else. _Never_.

"You were right," Papyrus muttered, finally looking down at his brother as the skeleton stared up at him with a down-turned grin and small, dull blue eye-lights. "You were right, Sans."

Sans watched, conflicted, as Papyrus walked away, back ridged and stride harsh.


	7. Chapter 7

_**A *very* quick insight into what's going on in Papyrus's head during chapter 5 :)**_  
 _ **I think I may do a Sans focused chapter next. I'm looking forward to it quite a bit xx**_

* * *

Papyrus sat at the security desk, slouched over the smooth wooden surface and dully staring into space. Just two more hours today then he'd be off. No lingering around or hoping for extra shifts. He would go straight home and be able to spend some more time with Sans, which he hadn't been doing for a while, having been distracted by worthless shit.

Sans seemed to be happier to see more of him. He'd certainly been acting nicer than usual with less strops and moaning about Papyrus's ability to keep the flat clean. He even offered to let Papyrus cook for once. Papyrus hadn't felt like it though. He'd rather just sit and listen to his brother talk about work and how he was much closer to getting a case.

Yeah, things were good. Better in fact. It was fine that you weren't around. Papyrus huffed and glowered down at his hands.

Damn, he'd thought about you again. He had to stop doing that. It was pointless and only served to make him angry both at you and himself for being fooled like that. You _weren't_ kind, nor were you brave. You had a bloody conviction for abusive behaviour and you _never even mentioned it._

Yeah. He was lucky Sans was still looking out for him...

He sighed, and looked around, trying to refocus on his job. Not that there was much to focus on. He gazed listlessly at a pair of giggling girls, a hoard of businessmen getting coffee on their lunch break and-

 **You.**

Papyrus paused for a fraction of a second, meeting your exhausted gaze, before looking away.

What were you doing here? You were standing a distance away, just staring at him. Like you wanted to talk to him, to perhaps give some feeble excuse. He snorted to himself and looked back with a fierce glare, only to discover you were no longer there, which... which was **fine**. Papyrus didn't want you anywhere near him, not at all.

Papyrus spent the next hour watching the crowds very carefully, just doing his job properly and making sure no-

There you were. You were walking awa-wait- _half_ walking and half running, as if something was following you. A woman shoved past you, almost sending you toppling to the ground and Papyrus caught sight of your face.

You didn't look good, not at all. Some vicious, distant part of his mind wanted to be pleased by this, that you weren't perfect and here was the proof, but most of his mind was taken up by your half ragged appearance, you unshaven jaw and _the expression on your face_. Your eyes were wide, sweat beaded at your brow and your chest was rising and falling like you had just ran a race. You were scared, terrified even, but why?

You regained your balance and rushed off, your figure melting into the crowd and fading from sight. Papyrus stared after you, for a moment forgetting all of his anger in the face of his concern.

The moment passed.

He sat back down on his seat, not remembering when he had stood up, and told himself whatever was going on with you wasn't his business. He didn't have anything to do with you now. You... you were probably just startled by almost being knocked over.

 _Or you had been scared of him_. Papyrus frowned. It wouldn't be the first time a human's reacted to him like that. He had been pretty angry last time you saw him as well.

Papyrus glared down at his hands.

Well _of course_ he'd been angry, he had a right to be. You had acted like his brother was the devil. You'd thrown stupid accusations around and acted like you were saving him or some shit. He didn't need someone like that. He didn't need you.

Mind made up, he pushed all thoughts of your frightened face away, and tried to refocus on his work.

This proved harder than he thought.


	8. Chapter 8

**So this chapter goes between chapter 5 and 6 of Almost Alone and is from Sans's perspective.**

 **Man oh man do I need to upload more of these and catch up with the main fic. I think I'm going to update a lot more of them at a faster pace.**  
 **However, this means all of these chapter will be unbetaed so I apologize greatly if there's any errors in these at all.**

 **That said, I hope you enjoy :) xxx**

* * *

Sans stared at his reflection in the glass window out of the kitchen. The sky was a dark, steely grey outside, turning the glass into a dull, see-through mirror. The cracks in his eye ached softly and he resisted the urge to run his fingers over them, to reassure himself that there were three there and not one.

For a second the reflection wavered in his vision, the down-turned set to his jaw warping up into a familiar thin-lipped smile and his right eye sagging slightly.

It was warm in the kitchen, the steam from the rice had started to fog up the window and the air felt soft and humid, heavy with the rich scent of food. Nonetheless, Sans felt his hands trembling as if they were caught in the eye of a winter storm. He continued to stare into his reflection, unblinkingly. The clouds beyond the mirror-glass shifted under a hard, distant wind, and San's reflection returned to normal. He let out the breath he was holding and turned back to his cooking just in time to see the rice bubble up and overflow. Biting back a curse, he speedily took of off the hob, hardly noticing as a glob of hot boiling water spat out onto his hand.

As he turned the flame to a lower heat and carefully put the pot of rice back on, Sans watched Papyrus from the corner of his eye.

His brother was sat at the table, staring into space, seemingly at nothing. Sans looked away, continuing to cook in silence. The only sound to be heard was the soft simmering bubble of the rice and the click of the knives and forks as Sans set out the cutlery.

Sans waited until he had dished out the food and Papyrus had eaten at least half of it before he spoke.

"How much do you know about that human?"

Papyrus looked up from his plate of chili, fork frozen halfway to his mouth. Sans was staring at him, eyes unreadable but steady and scrutinizing, as if he was searching for something.

"...What human?" Papyrus asked.

"Don't play dumb, brother. You know what human I'm talking about. How much do you actually know about him?"

Papyrus frowned and put down the fork. _Why_ was Sans suddenly talking about this? He thought they'd come to an unspoken agreement not to talk about his mistake, to not talk about _you_.

"Do you know anything about his past?" Sans asked, prodding at him with his low, steady voice.

Papyrus felt his temper flare as he ground his teeth and his voice grew quiet and cold. "Yeah, apparently he's abusive and has a record."

Sans looked away and huffed out a tight breath, as if disappointed with that answer. "And do you know why he got that record?"

"He never told me," Papyrus scowled, pushing his dinner away and half-standing to leave the table.

"Did you ever ask?" Sans returned, fixing Papyrus in place with his sharp tone and heavy gaze. "Did you ever ask anything? Like what his family was like? Who his past partners were? Do you know _anything_ about him?"

There was a long moment of silence.

"... What brought this on, bro?" Papyrus asked, pulling his seat back in and facing his brother head on, face devoid of emotion once more.

"I saw that human today. He came to see me, to explain and to apologise."

Papyrus stared as Sans frowned down at his hands, full of thought.

"What did he say?"

Sans ignored his brother's question.

"You really don't know anything about who he is," Sans huffed out, left hand tapping irritably on the table before he caught himself and forced his hand to still. "You'd better do a better job getting to know him. That is, if you manage to talk to him before he leaves."

Papyrus felt his body freeze. Everything slowed and a horrible feeling creeped up from his chest, making his breath come out quick and shallow and causing him to choke on his own voice as he tried to speak. "...he's leaving?"

Sans looked up from his hands finally, eyes flashing. "Yeah. He's leaving, moving to another city. Probably sooner than he's planning by how nervous he looked."

There was a moment of silence, then Papyrus stood up, gently tucked his chair into the table and left without another word. Sans stood, staring after him with a small tired smile curling on his jaw as the front door clicked shut.

Sans looked back at his reflection in the grey window and, this time, could only see his own exhausted eyes looking back.


	9. Chapter 9

Papyrus stared up at the ceiling through half closed eyes, a hazy, almost smile curling at the corners of his jaw. There were soft inhales and exhales of breath coming from atop his chest. He tilted his head, dim eye-lights slowly travelling down to your exhausted face, taking note of your usually drawn brow, now lax with sleep. This change would have made you look years younger if not for the shadows under your eyes.

Slowly, Papyrus raised his left hand, ghosting his fingers down the bridge of your nose and the dips and curves of your cheeks, tracing the shape of your face and committing it to memory. Not that he thought he could ever forget it. Even if the world reset now, he would never be able to forget the way you had looked at him this night, the way you met his gaze, the way your eyes hooded as you leaned forward and-

Papyrus turned his gaze back up to the ceiling, cheekbones flushing as he took several steadying breaths and willed his soul to calm again. It took a few minutes of silently contemplating the ceiling in the warm gloom before he could look back down at you again.

You had shifted slightly, still deeply asleep as you buried your face in his chest, head tilted at an angle in which Papyrus could see your bare neck and the faint thrum of your pulse.

...The ceiling really needed some work done on it. Papyrus could see a few cracks that needed to be plastered over and a few patches of damp that should be dealt with. P-perhaps he could get a ladder and sort it out for you, paint over it or something.

You let out a soft, sleepy sigh and Papyrus tensed up for a moment before giving in, looking down and gazing at you with a large, goofy grin. You were actually there, actually holding onto him, sleeping in his presence even. No one did that, no one but Sans and even he slept with one eye open, not quite trusting Papyrus enough to spot any danger in time.

But you? You slept like a stone. You had for many months now, whenever Papyrus had visited. But, in this moment, he felt the surprise of it crash all over him once more. He didn't deserve this level of trust. He had done nothing to earn it. He had treated you awfully. He put you on a pedestal, pretended you were perfect and became angry when you acted like a real person and made a mistake. He was the one who ignored your feelings, who became angry, who pushed you away and- and you just took him back? Let him kiss you? _Kissed him back..._

He never would have thought he'd be here a few hours ago. He never thought any of this would happen when he had been waiting anxiously at the bus stop, hoping you were on it like usual, fearing you weren't. Turned out, this wasn't what he should have been afraid of.

* * *

 _As the bus started to slow down, he caught sight of you through the glass. It was only for a second, but it felt like longer. You were slouched over, staring down as the seat next to you with blank, shadowed eyes. You looked so tired, a s tired as Papyrus felt that night you took him into your home, that night you saved him. A sense of urgency flooded through his body as he hurriedly made his way to the bus doors, only to stop as they remained closed to him. The urgency drained away into foreboding apprehension on seeing the bus driver turn to face him through the closed doors, a large, toothy smile on his face._

 _The bus lurched forwards, speeding away from Papyrus as he stood frozen in place._

 _...You lived an hour away from here **by bus**. How was he supposed to get to you in time? He couldn't call a cab, they wouldn't take him even if he did have a phone to call one on. There were no more buses and there weren't any underground stations anywhere near you._

 _Papyrus started to run. It was stupid and illogical and he did it anyway._

 _It took about half an hour of frantically weaving through litter-filled streets and dark, cluttered alleyways like a madman for it to sink in that this really wouldn't work. But what else could he do? He had no way of... of..._

 _His frantic running movements slowed to a crawl as his mind caught up with himself and he started to think clearly._

 _He hadn't tried it in months, he hadn't even been able to do it for over half a year, but he knew he had to try. He pulled himself off of the road he was standing on the side of, ducking into a nearby side street, carefully looking up and down for both witnesses and focal points._

 _He had once tried to explain focal points to Sans a long time ago. They had both been kids and it didn't work very well. Papyrus hadn't really fully understood it either at that point. As they grew up, Sans became less interested in **how** he did it and more interested in the best way to use his ability to their advantage. Papyrus tried to explain it again during some of the more hope-filled forgotten timelines. He was never sure how much his brother actually understood about it at the time but he had nodded along as he discussed pocket universes and the similar energy that they all contained. When Papyrus started getting into the details of said energy manipulation and the connection of these which could open the empty space between them, called the void, he hit a snag. Sans didn't seem to like the sound of the void. He went very still then told him to never use it again but wouldn't, or couldn't, explain why. Sans seemed to have misunderstood the mechanics of it and was very stubborn in protesting it. After that reset, and the next couple or so, Papyrus gave up explaining how he teleported. If asked, he would just say that it had to be in specific areas and that it took a lot of energy. Energy that Papyrus hadn't had in a long time._

 _But, at that moment, after realising there was a way he could get to you in time, Papyrus felt almost as if he could do it. Almost._

 _It didn't work. He found the point in a shadowed drenched and dubiously stained corner of the alley, next to a sea of rubbish and broken bottles. He concentrated on it, he slipped in... and then he slipped back out again, falling to the ground and clutching at his head with a wince. Usually he would have stopped after that, like he had before, calling the endeavor useless and pointless, but he didn't. He tried again._

 _And again._

 _And again._

 _And-_

 _He jolted forward two miles and slammed into the glass front of a newsagent. Papyrus almost grinned, rubbing the ridge of his brow, and tried again._

 _After that, it had been a mad dash from focal point to focal point, especially when he had got close to your place and caught sight of you frantically sprinting in the distance, your form flashing through pools of darkness and the small, bleak patches of light afforded by the lights of passing cars._

 _There were no stars to light your way, nor the flickering artificial glow of street lamps. He heard, rather than saw you trip on one of the potholes you had once carefully guided him around and, suddenly, he was running too. Which really was a stupid idea, seeing as you seemed to be running for your life. He was lucky you weren't the sort to fight in these situations when he finally caught up and grabbed your shoulder._

 _For a moment, when you looked at him, all he could see was pure, unadulterated fear, and he couldn't help but reel back, seeing all of those humans and monsters who had looked at him like he was death itself, there in your eyes. He stared at you, hardly breathing, full of the sudden, petrifying certainty that you were afraid of him, that you were **terrified** of him._

 _Then you let out that sigh of relief, then you gave him that almost-smile, and Papyrus knew he'd been wrong, so **so** wrong about you. Everything he knew about you had been wrong. You weren't like those miserable beings... but neither were you like that perfect person he had thought you were._

 _You were terrified, your chest rising and falling like bellows and eyes darting to and fro. You were a mess, your jaw covered in stubble and your clothes drenched in sweat. You were damaged, your frame hunched and fear evident in the tears in your eyes._

 _You were like him._

 **What the hell happened to you?**

* * *

You frowned softly in your sleep and Papyrus shifted, coming back to the present as his arms curled around you and pulled you further up into his chest.

Gently, he lifted you up, swinging his legs off your cheap, uncomfortable sofa and standing up. You groaned at the movement but didn't wake up. He quietly gazed down at you and started to carry you to your room.

Your head lolled onto his shoulder but otherwise you did not move an inch. His arms were like a vice around your body, holding you steady. He didn't let go even as he lowered you to the cushions of your bed, instead moving with you and settling down with his arms still wrapped around your waist. The silence was heavy as he watched you shift slightly into the mattress.

Papyrus felt as if he could stay in this moment forever. Just lying here, holding you and feeling your chest rise and fall beneath him. Everything just felt a bit better when he was around you, it was addictive.

 _But not completely better_ , he forcibly reminded himself. If he went back to letting himself believe you made everything better, then this whole thing would start over again. He'd cling to you, rely too heavily on you and then blame you when things didn't go the way he hoped or believed they would. No, he had learned his lesson from the past few weeks. He couldn't be overly reliant on you again. It wasn't fair.

He lowered his face softly, breathing you in and sighing out his stress. Not _right_ now though. He'd work hard and be independent and try to make himself get better _tomorrow_ , but right now he just wanted to feel safe and happy for a little while longer. To spend time with you, to make you happy, to just get to know you more.

He hardly even knew you, not really. But, for the first time in a long time, he felt a slither of determination thrum through his soul, the determination to figure you out.


	10. Chapter 10

**So most of this chapter takes place sometime during the events of Chapter 11 Probably slap bang in the middle, when the reader had pretty much moved in with the skeletons, but the trial date hadn't yet been set (The dream refers to some time after chapter 1 of this story).**  
 **It's very much Sans-centric. In fact both this and the last (next) chapter are too.**

 **I've discovered, while writing this, that I actually really like this verse's Sans. He was my least favourite before to be honest, as he seemed very abusive in lots of depictions but, when I tried to figure him out and write out his backstory (which was the first chapter of this side-fic) he changed a lot.**

 **Fun fact: I originally wasn't going to publish any of the stuff in To Be Strong. It was just some drabbles to get to know my characters but then it kinda grew and I thought 'what the heck, I'm gonna put it up.'**  
 **So yeah, I hope you like it :)**

* * *

 _Lava boiled and writhed in the colossal, churning cauldron far below the metal passageways crisscrossing the vast ceiling. The hissing sound of the release of toxic fumes echoed through the cavernous, factory-like building, overwhelming the constant thrum of the many reinforced sluices scraping open and slamming shut. Monsters scurried around like ants, trying to control the overflowing mass of heat by pumping out the molten rock into a series of crooked and cracked canals. Sans stared down at it all from one of the passageways as he learned over the flimsy banister, fingers clacking on the metal, face blank and emotionless as he surveyed the hellish scene._

 _There was a sudden clamour of shrieking alarms and frantic yells. Sans watched as a large team of monsters descended upon one of the sluices, which had cracked and was spurting high-pressured lava up into the air, in a stuttering arch of deep, glowing red._

 _Suddenly, Sans was no longer looking down upon this but was instead standing on the bottom level, in the midst of the swirling, yellow-tinged mist of toxic fumes and distorted magic, with all those quivering, horror-struck monsters. They were rushing around with thick sheets of metal, wide-eyed and desperate to get the sluice fixed, to stop the searing wave of destruction._

 _Sans could see the sweat dripping off them but, strangely, couldn't feel the heat himself. Nor could he see their faces or hear their words. Everything was hazy and muffled. Eyes looked past him and through him and, in turn, he looked past and through the nameless, faceless monsters, focusing instead on the way the hot magma surged out of the cracks of the towering sluice gate._

 _The monsters started to shout more garbled words around him and Sans tried to focus on them. For some reason, it felt important that he saw their faces, that he should recognise and remember them. It was as if everything was blurred though, easier to see at a distance but hard up close. He tried to see anyway, to watch as the monsters tried to get close enough to fix the crack, only for a number of them to get doused in the molten rock and dissolve into ash._

 _"kEeP gOIng! seAL iT!"_

 _Sans looked up, away from the chaos before him, to where the voice came from. Right where he was standing before, a safe distance away from all the madness below, a figure in black stood, his boney fingers slowly rapping and tapping on the metal railing, his small slither of a smile still in place even as another monster fell into a cloud of dust._

 _Sans gritted his teeth, glaring up at his father, but the glare faltered as his red tinged eye-lights flickered onto the figure next to that monster. Papyrus stood there, small again, barely up to Gaster's shoulder yet, quivering and holding onto the railings for dear life. From this distance Sans shouldn't have been able to see the look on his brother's face, but, somehow, he could. He saw the fear there, the uncertainty, the fresh cracks running down his jaw from where his canines should have been._

 _Suddenly, Sans was standing on the metallic bridge again, no longer concerned about the world below as he reached out for his little brother._

 _"gO dEAl wItH ThaT."_

 _Papyrus looked fearfully up at their father, then down at the now fleeing workers, but did not argue and disappeared a split second before Sans could reach him. Sans's fingers fastened onto empty air as he stared into the space his brother should have been in._

 _ **This isn't how it goes. That wasn't how it went!**_

 _Gaster was leaning over the railings now, fingers loudly drumming against the metal, masking the sounds of Sans's approaching steps as he smiled down at the scene below from his safe position, confident in the knowledge of his wellbeing being secure. Confident that his shield would protect him, save him from getting hurt._

 _Sans's eye-lights turned a dark, claret red._

 _ **This** **is how it went.**_

* * *

There was a sound coming from the kitchen. It was quiet, like the whispered rustle of paper. It was hardly even a sound, but Papyrus still heard it from his room. He shifted on the bed and looked round at the clock on the wall. Papyrus had grown up in the dark and, with the small amount of light coming from the curtainless window, he could clearly read the time on it. He sighed and rubbed his face with his left hand, carefully pulling his other arm from underneath you and forcing himself to get out of your warm embrace. You moaned, soft and sleepily, but you didn't wake up.

Jaw clicking with a large yawn, Papyrus shuffled out of his room and through the living room, much like the horribly inaccurate human depiction of skeletons in their weird films... except with less groaning and more swearing as he stubbed his toe on something and fell over with a muffled thump.

A gusty sigh came from the kitchen, along with a rustle of papers being put down, before a tired looking Sans made his way out of the kitchen doorway. He smirked on seeing Papyrus sat in the middle of their lounge, rubbing his foot and glaring at the morning star which seemed to have fallen off Sans's weapon display.

"You need to be more aware of your surroundings, Pappy," Sans chided him lightly, leaning against the doorframe to the lounge.

"And you need to be in bed; it's two in the morning," Papyrus returned, shaking off the pain in his foot and ungracefully clambering up off the ground.

Sans blinked. Oh. Was that all it was? He thought it was later than that. Papyrus let out a long sigh and gave Sans a put-upon look.

"I said that aloud, didn't I?" Sans muttered grumpily. Papyrus didn't grace that with an answer.

"Right, off you go to bed," Papyrus said instead, stepping around Sans and trying to herd him away from the kitchen and to his bedroom.

"No," Sans growled, digging his heals in.

"Sans, go get some sleep," Papyrus tried again, this time trying to pick Sans up... and failing when Sans suddenly became approximately two tons heavier, making both the floorboards beneath him and the brother behind him groan.

Papyrus was starting to get the impression that Sans didn't want to go to bed.

"That's cheating, bro."

"There's no problem with cheating if you win," Sans returned without missing a beat, twisting round to give Papyrus the full brunt of his glare.

Papyrus held his hands up in defeat with a quiet laugh. Sans gave a faint smile back and his magic withdrew, giving the strained floorboards a well-deserved break. Papyrus immediately picked his brother up, teleporting the both of them to Sans's bedroom.

"WH-What?! No! That's not fair!" Sans raged from under Papyrus's right arm, squirming, wriggling and hissing like a cat on a trip to the vets.

"Yeah, it's not fair," Papyrus agreed as he dumped Sans on his immaculate bed. "It's cheating."

Sans grumbled but had no real comeback to that as Papyrus laughed and turned away, heading out of the room.

"... thanks, Pappy."

Papyrus stopped, hand frozen on the door handle as he recognised the tone in Sans's hushed words. He turned around and slowly walked back to the bed, taking a seat next to his brother. Sans didn't even look up.

"What's wrong?"

Sans shook his head and smiled. Usually, he'd say 'nothing'. Usually, he'd try to play off his nightmares as short naps or his insomnia as being his usual strangely-active self. Usually, he'd lie. But these days were far from usual.

"Your mate. His case is... reminding me of things. Things I don't want to be reminded of."

Papyrus stared at Sans, eyes wide and unmoving. He didn't even seem to notice Sans referring to you as his mate, in his sheer surprise on hearing Sans refer to Gaster.

"I thought you forgot almost everything about him. Everyone else did," Papyrus breathed, his face going through a whole show of emotions from incredulity to horror to all encompassing sadness. Sans didn't miss a single of these expressions on his little brother's face.

"I only remember bits," Sans lied, looking back down at the carpet. "I just- I hate that your mate had to go through something like you did."

Papyrus crinkled his brow, sorting through his own churned up memories of his father. As far as he remembered, Gaster never hurt him. It was always Sans he went after until... until…?

"It's fine. Don't worry about it," Sans said abruptly, interrupting Papyrus's thoughts and distracting him entirely from whatever they were talking about. "I just want all that not to happen again, for you to look out for yourself more."

"I do," Papyrus tried to reassure him but Sans let out an ugly snort at this, his fists clenching at the silk sheets lining his bed, the sharp tips of his fingers piercing into the material.

"No, you don't. You go from one disgusting habit to another to another. You smoke, you half-starve yourself, you always put other people before you and you always always end up running yourself into the ground."

Papyrus opened his mouth, as if to argue back at those allegations but was promptly shut up by the glower Sans sent him.

"It's true. You're even doing it now. You're helping your human with everything, you're with them every minute of the day. You need to give him and yourself some space. You can't let him become one of your hobbies... He deserves better than that."

Papyrus stared down at his hands and thought. He thought of all that effort he put into art and Spanish and all those other hobbies, and how much he hated doing them all in the end. He thought about how he treated you when he first met you.

"A mate isn't a pastime or a job to get tired of," Sans murmured, voice firm but not unkind as he stared down at the cold floorboards.

Papyrus looked up from his hands to face Sans, his eye-lights flickering from his brother's hunched back to shadowed eyes. His brother looked so tired.

"He's not. I'm not treating him like that anymore, I won't. He just needs support right now."

Sans hummed, still looking down at his fists but otherwise not responding. Papyrus stared at his brother, gaze focused on the downturned grin, the shadows framing his eyes and the lightless hollows of his eye sockets.

"I'm going to get better," Papyrus blurted out, startling Sans from his thoughts and making him look up. "I promise I'll work on it and I'll do much better so you don't have to worry about me so much. I promise."

Sans smiled, eyes crinkling and head shaking in happy disbelief. "I'll always worry about you Pappy, no promises are going to change that... but thanks."

He brought his arm round Papyrus's side, pulling him into a brief hug as they sat on the bed together, a bittersweet smile on both of their faces.


	11. Chapter 11

**I hope you all have enjoyed this series. A few people asked about whether I might do a sequel focusing on Sans falling in love with someone. I don't know if I will as I don't really have any ideas for it and it would have to be quite a long burn for Sans to actually fall for somebody. But I'm not ruling it out either as it would be fun to revisit these characters again some time in the future. We will see :)**

 **This chapter takes place about halfway through the last chapter of Almost Alone, just after the reader won the trial but before he bought his flat. Just to let you know, this story starts off from Rose's POV, so I'll put some warnings in now. Skip if you want to avoid any spoilers.**

 _(WARNINGS: Swearing, derogatory language, manipulative and aggressive behaviour, drinking, allusions to marital abuse, (SPOILER) minor character death.)_

 **Thank you again for everyone who has read and commented. It means the world to me that you've taken the time to let me know what you think of this :) Thanks xxx**

* * *

Rose lost.

She lost? That- that wasn't possible. That wasn't supposed to happen. You were the one that was supposed to lose. You were supposed to lose and get your punishment for treating her like this.

Rose paced up and down the halls of her house once again, tipping back the last dregs of the glass of whisky down her throat, and stomping her little blue heeled shoes on the pristine, white carpet as she tried to wrap her head around the horrifying conclusion to all her efforts. How was she going to get you back now? You were supposed to get punished, you were supposed to learn your lesson and realise how horrible you were being, and then she would have taken you back.

Rose wasn't unkind. She knew you would need her through your time in prison, she could see it in your eyes as she had walked into the courtroom. Eyes were the window to the soul people said and Rose was always good at reading them, at seeing the truth or the lie in them. Your eyes had been tired, resigned, sad. When she met them, she knew she couldn't stay angry at you forever. She knew she would be there for you. She would have been your rock and helped you through your time in jail and then she would have got you back for good when you finished your sentence. You would never have left her again. Never again.

But no. You went and ruined all that. You won the case. She was now supposed to leave you alone. She was now supposed to give you her house, her money, her everything, and then she'd never be allowed to see you again! And you had looked **happy** about it!?

She slammed a fist down on one of the walls lining the hallway, ignoring the pain blooming into delicate patches of red on her skin.

She hated you. She hated you so much. Why couldn't you have just stayed with her? Why did you go? Why did everyone always have to go? Rose clenched her teeth and slowly breathed in and out, leaning her forehead on the wall as she tried to think clearly about this.

... No. You were hers. Her man. Her husband, no matter what that judge said. You needed her. They wouldn't take you away from her. **Never**.

She would get you back. She would just have to be smart about it. She knew she no longer had your parents on her side -the way they had looked at her- and everyone else seemed to have turned from her as well if all her unanswered calls were anything to go by. Well! Shows what sort of friends they are. They all got lured in by all those fucked up lies and spread it round like it was trashy gossip and not her life! As if she would hurt you? She **loved** you. She loved you like no one she had ever loved before. She put up with all your shit and your lies for all those years and they thought she seriously hurt you?! No. It was you who was hurting her! It was just you being a stupid, brain-dead child! She would show everyone!

Rose blinked, suddenly drawn out of her musings by the burning pain in her hand, and pulled her fist away from the wall where a crack had started to form in the plaster. Her nails had become chipped and ragged, her skin was bright red and tinted with a hint of bruised purple. That wouldn't do.

She turned away and walked to the kitchen, the clip-clop sound of her shoes on the stone tiles echoing as she searched for a pair of gloves, rummaging through the draw where she used to keep them when you still lived with her.

They weren't there.

She looked again, ripping out the draw from the frame and emptying the contents on the floor. Plasters spiralled down like Autumn leaves and several bottles of coverup fell and cracked upon the cold tiles, the old clotted liquid spurting out across the stone.

Rose threw the wooden shelf down on the floor, feeling a faint sense of satisfaction as the wood splintered on the ground into large, jagged chunks. The faint sense of satisfaction quickly faded away though as she turned and caught sight of her gloves. They weren't neatly folded away in the draw, or on the floor, nor were they left out, ready for her to put on with ease like years ago. No, they were being held out before her. Held in the hand of someone standing right before her in the dim, unlit room.

Rose didn't scream, or jolt back, or flinch. She hardly even breathed as her eyes travelled up from that hand to the face of the person standing in her kitchen. She stared at him, her red rimmed eyes narrowing as she found herself recognising the fucking monster standing before her. It was that lawyer monster, the skeleton, the one who messed everything up and twisted her words to make everything go so wrong.

"You," she breathed, fear forgotten for anger and voice hissing out between clenched teeth.

The skeleton didn't grace this with an answer, simply smiling at her with stupid, blank eye sockets.

"Evening, Rose," he said in a pleasant tone.

Rose lunged forward, not entirely sure about what she was going to do. The skeleton side stepped her as she fell to the ground.

"Wow, you're a real mess, aren't you?" he asked conversationally, leaning back against the kitchen counter with a soft chuckle as Rose scrabbled to her feet.

"You took him. You took him from me."

"Pretty sure he took himself from you," Sans returned, smile turning down at the corners as Rose stamped her foot down and started to hiss out a string of foul words.

"Yeah, shut up," he interrupted her with a sigh. Rose's jaw slammed up sharply, teeth crashing into each other and skimming the edge of her tongue, making her eyes water with the brief flash of pain. She tried to move forward, to push at him, get him to stop whatever he was doing, but that strange pressure quickly settled into her chest as well, holding her in place.

"I'll save him," she hissed between those clenched teeth, water beading at the corners of her eyes. "Just you wait. That freak won't hurt him! You- he-"

Rose abruptly fell silent. A delightful, horrible realisation blooming in her mind. The skeleton lawyer **and** the skeleton homewrecker… Twoskeletons? Why hadn't she thought of this before? Monsters usually looked different from each other, right? For these two to not be connected somehow was very unlikely. They were in on it together, weren't they? They- they set this all up. They faked the evidence so that they would win, and her husband would get the money. Then that slathering freak, the one who was all over you like he fucking owned you, he would get all her stuff! They were using you! The courts couldn't have known this connection, could they? You definitely couldn't have known about this.

Rose smiled, teeth still welded shut with that strange force, as she grunted out a tight laugh. "I'll get him back, you two won't get his money. I'll get him back, just you wait and see," she hissed.

Sans watched her quietly for a long, drawn out moment as she stood there, chest heaving and eyes painfully wide. He then sighed and looked down at his hands, his grin quirking up, painfully large as he stared at the clenched fists for a moment, before letting them fall loosely to his sides. Rose's leather gloves fell to the ground with a dull slap and Rose felt the pressure on her jaw and chest abate and fall slack.

"I hate being right sometimes."

He looked up and Rose saw that his left eye had flared blue and his right had flared red. There was nothing holding her in place but she didn't once think of moving as she met the monster's gaze.

"Usually I wouldn't care what happened to a piece of slime like you. But this isn't a usual sort of case. My brother is happy. My fr- his mate is happy. I want to keep it that way."

His small, almost-smile fell as he looked at her, his blue and red eyes taking in the way Rose's chest heaved, the look of angry incomprehension flickering over her face and small, almost invisible, shudder to her frame as the meaning of those words finally started to sink in.

A trickle of fear was seeping through the haze of anger in her mind. Rose pushed it down.

"You're not going to hurt me. You'd be found out. They'd hunt you down," she told him, voice assured and unwavering. She would have seemed entirely composed of it were not for the small tremor to her hands.

Sans's eyelights flickered up from her twitching fingers to meet her unflinching gaze. He shook his head with a look of patronising disappointment plastered on his face.

"I'm a lawyer. I know about evidence... No one will ever find any. No one will ever know. Same old song and dance."

Eyes were the window to the soul, Rose had always believed, and as she met his gaze, she saw no lie in them. She turned and tried to run, her tiny blue heals clattering against the cold tiles.

She didn't get very far.

* * *

When Sans got home it was late, or early depending on your perspective.

Sans preferred to think the latter and huffed out a few breaths as if he had been out exercising or training as usual. He soon discovered that this ruse was unnecessary as you and Papyrus continued to slumber on the couch together, unheeding to anything but your dreams and the secure warmth of each other's arms. You both must have fallen asleep at the same time (looking at those flat adverts again if the fallen estate agent magazines were anything to go by), otherwise one of you would have guided the other to bed.

An old, terrified part of Sans's mind almost wanted to be angry at this sight. Anyone could just walk in on these two and there was no reaction? He expected Papyrus to at least crack his eyes open at the soft click of the front door. But, instead, he had them firmly closed, hidden in the soft folds of your jumper as he quietly breathed you in and out. Sans watched as you shifted in your sleep, your left arm tightening across his brother's shoulder briefly before falling slack in a loose embrace.

No... Sans really couldn't bring himself to be angry. He could feel a whole host of emotions surging through his soul (worryaffectionguiltlove) but none of them were anger.

He sighed and looked away. He would have his work cut out making sure these two idiots didn't accidentally off themselves.

"Hey..."

Sans jolted and sharply twisted his head back as you sleepily blinked up at him, unmoving but for the rise and fall of your chest and the small flutter of your eyelids.

"You okay?" you breathed out, voice slurred with exhaustion.

Sans didn't say anything for a few moments, his gaze falling to his feet as he tried to push his usual cocky grin back onto his jaw. It didn't seem to be working very well tonight though.

You shifted slightly, clearly fighting against the heavy pull of sleep to wait for his answer, to make sure your friend was alright.

Sans looked up and met your gaze.

"I'm okay. Get some rest."

Slowly, your brow bunched up, creating a deep crease in the middle as you obviously mulled over his slow and quiet tone. Ultimately though, the warm lure of sleep was too strong to resist as you nodded and closed your eyes again.

"Okay," you murmured, before your breathing started to even out again.

Sans snorted quietly to himself and shook his head, reaching over to rearrange the throw that had bunched between your and Papyrus's legs, pulling it back over the both of you. He smiled, eye-lights soft.

He hadn't been lying. Sure, things weren't perfect. When he used his magic, he would still constantly see tendrils of dust swirling up around him, crawling up his back, weighing him down with lost hopes and dreams. When he caught sight of his reflection, he had always and would always see his father, smiling up at him as he fell, and feel the echo of the grin that ripped apart his face and coated it with shadows. And whenever he held something in his hands, he would forever feel torn clumps of rose petals fluttering down, coating his fingers in the scent of rust.

But when he would look at you and his brother smiling together, content together?

Well, for the first time in over a decade, Sans felt okay.


End file.
